Harry Potter and the Invasion of the 'Sues
by Ouvalyrin
Summary: They're beautiful. They're smart. They're powerful. They're perfect. They're canon's bane, the stuff of intelligent fan fiction writers' nightmares...they're Mary Sues. And they've come to Hogwarts. Mary-Sue parody.
1. The Very Beautiful Cat Riddle

**Title**: Harry Potter and the Invasion of the 'Sues

**Author**: Ouvalyrin

**Warnings**: Mild profanity, some violence in later chapters, OCs and Mary Sues.

**Word Count**: 2,442

**A/N**: I believe that canon, while important and worthy of our respect, is not a religion. So...OotP never happened. _Sirius is not dead_. He's very much alive, probably pretty smelly, and running around being a dog. However, Ron and Hermione are still prefects, because Dumbledore would probably have made them that even if OotP never happened. Harry does not speak _LIKE -- THIS_ (that much). He is not as resentful as he was, and he doesn't lash out at his friends.

(I tried working OotP into this, but couldn't, simply because OotP was pretty dark and this is meant to be a light-hearted story. Slightly gruesome, because Mary Sue torture is the best, but for the most part, light-hearted. And having Harry drag down the entire story with Ron and Hermione tiptoeing around him would be just...heavy-hearted.)

Chapter One

_The Very Beautiful Cat Riddle, Who Is Also Very Beautiful_

Cathy Katherine Greenleaf Malfoy Snape Riddle, also known as Cat, stared about herself in wonder, school books clutched tightly to her prominent (and stuffed) breasts and took a deep breath, closing jewel-red eyes. It was her first day at Hogwarts and she was _so_ nervous. She hoped that she would make friends with the other witches and wizards quickly. She didn't want to be -- shudder in horror at the thought -- _unpopular_.

She blushed slightly at the thought of her cousin, Draco Malfoy. Sure, he was her cousin, but he was _so_ handsome and _blonde_ and he'd been really nice to her, nicer than he was to everyone else, so he had to be in love with her or something, right? And since they were both purebloods -- though Cat didn't mind Muggle-borns all that much, actually -- and wanted to keep their bloodlines pure, it wasn't like her father would forbid the match.

(Malfoy had actually given her a coolly appraising glance, a scathing remark about her name that she'd interpreted as a weird kind of compliment, and ignored her for the most part. One had to give...Cat some credit: He _had_ been nicer to her than he was to...oh, say...the one and only Harry Potter.)

Cat also hoped that no one would hate her because of her eyes. They were because of her father, Tom Riddle, who was really a misunderstood but very ambitious man. He had met her mother in a bar, fallen in love at first sight, and swept her off into a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, Dumbledore and the rest of those poopyheads made up a bunch of lies about how evil her father was and how he wanted to take over the world or something -- Cat wasn't too clear on the details -- so her father had to change his name to Voldemort and run. A single tear (1) rolled down her face before splashing on the ground.

Aside from her eyes, Cat bore very little resemblance to her father after he got his plastic surgery so people wouldn't recognize him. Her hair was long and black, falling to the ground in a straight sheet of obsidian. Sometimes, she became blonde and her hair wavy, but that was because of the Veela blood in her mother's side of the family, the Malfoys. Because she was only half Veela, she didn't sprout claws, fangs, or wings, though if she was certain that if she the last one did happen, they would be feathery, white and soft to touch. Whenever she did get mad, though, not only did her hair turn blonde, but her eyes flashed to a blue-green strongly reminiscent of the ocean. The Malfoy genes had done more than just make her half Veela, however; her skin was pure white (2), like snow.

She was only sixteen, but her body resembled that of a Playboy star's -- uh, a very healthy and developed twenty-three year old's. Cat subscribed to the theory of "If you've got it, you might as well flaunt it," and had made the proper uniform adjustments.

She wore the same uniform as everyone else -- she didn't want to stand out _too_ much, or else she might be ostracized -- but the robes were considerably shorter. Any shorter, and they'd be nonexistent, actually, but that was okay, because underneath she was wearing her Abercrombie skirt (so short she couldn't bend down without flashing someone) and a tight leopard-print bikini top. People had called her a slut, but that was because they were just jealous that they weren't nearly as beautiful as she was.

Cat sniffed a little to herself, tossing her hair over one shoulder; an amazing feat of strength. It fell around her body like a shroud.

She looked around, returning to reality, where people were running about, saying their good-byes, and students were boarding the Hogwarts Express. Cat grabbed her trunk in one hand, because not only in addition to being beautiful, she was super-strong. Her cat -- who could transform into an owl if she needed one -- Neko-chan (3), who she'd gotten in Japan because it was _such_ an awesome country with all their manga and anime and video games, jumped onto her shoulder, rubbing its pure white head against her chin.

"You're a good kitty-cat," she remarked inanely. Despite being very beautiful, she was very lonely, because of her beauty. Girls were too jealous of her and guys always wanted to have sex with her. She had so few friends. Cat sniffled, feeling a few sobs coming on. Bravely, she swallowed them.

"Chin up," she whispered to herself, remembering her dearly departed mother's words. "I can't possibly make any friends if I'm crying."

- - -

This was all very, very odd, Harry decided. He hadn't been able to find an empty compartment -- or even a half-filled one. Ron and Hermione were with the other prefects -- including Malfoy, Harry thought with a sneer -- but had promised to join him as soon as possible.

At the very end of the train -- it was _always_ at the very end, why didn't he just look there first and save himself some trouble? -- there was a compartment with no one else in there.

Well. _Almost_ no one.

A boy was sitting in the corner, eyes closed as if sleeping. Harry cleared his throat, a little unsure.

"Erm, excuse me? Can I sit here?"

The boy opened his eyes, an appraising look in his eyes. He looked Harry up and down, then shrugged and gestured towards the seats. "Feel free," he grunted.

A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione arrived, saving Harry from some rather awkward silences, though he thought maybe he would have liked the quiet.

"There you are," Ron said, plopping himself in the seat besides Harry. "How the hell do you move so bloody fast?"

Harry shot him a quizzical look. "Erm...what do you mean?" What was Ron talking about?

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione said, sitting down across from him -- and nearer to the strange boy than one would've thought. "It _was_ odd. I'm sure we checked this compartment before, and no one was here."

"I probably hadn't arrived yet," Harry said. "And...Hermione? Is that a nose ring?"

She ignored the last part of his statement, saying, "If you say so, Harry."

It was then that Ron noticed the fourth person. "Hey -- Vincent! Nice to see you again, mate."

"You know him?" Harry muttered. "Creepy guy, if you ask me."

"Pretty decent, though really quiet. Stayed with us during the summer, then split when we went to Diagon Alley. Think he took a room in the Leaky Cauldron," Ron whispered back. Then, louder, "This is Harry Potter and she's Hermione Granger."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, wondering why there was no "Oh Em Gee! You're _the_ Harry Potter! Can I have your autograph?" (Not that he particularly wanted that, but it had become pretty standard by now.)

"Same here," Hermione said, staring at Vincent quizzically. "Sorry, but I don't think I've seen you around before." Harry waited, having wondered about that himself.

It was Ron who had the answer. "He's a transfer student."

"Oh -- the exchange student program, right?" Harry said, feeling stupid. Why hadn't he figured it out before?

"Where're you from?" Hermione asked, her eyes gleaming. Harry and Ron exchanged grinning glances; poor bloke. He didn't stand a chance.

"America."

"What's it like?" Harry asked curiously. "We have a few students who were born there, but they don't remember a whole lot about the place."

Vincent opened his eyes, thinking for a moment. "Overcrowded," he finally said. There was some kind of...sneer to his voice, Harry thought. What did he mean by that?

The door burst open. Hands flew to their wands, ready to fire a spell. Mad-Eye -- or Crouch, as it had turned out to be -- really _had_ driven his lesson of _CONSTANT VIGILANCE_ (!!) into his students.

That, and the entire Triwizard Tournament had left everybody more than a little paranoid.

- - -

Cat had spent considerable time dithering in front of the compartment door where she knew Harry Potter was. She would have looked rather idiotic, if not for the fact that she was so beautiful. Twelve people had come up to her and asked her out. She had had to turn them down though, but she hoped that they realized it hurt her more than it hurt them.

She had heard stories about Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, many from her cousin, Draco. Or, as she referred to him in her secret diary, Drakie-poo. (One day, she would finally be able to call him that, and he would take her gently in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, and write her a poem on the color of her blood red eyes that shone like rubies...) Drakie-poo -- er, Draco, had not seemed to like this Harry Potter very much, ranting about him and throwing manly fits of passion (because, of course, he was _way_ too "hawt" to throw temper tantrums).

But that _had_ to be the natural Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, right? Harry Potter couldn't be _that_ bad...even if he _had_ half-killed her beloved father when he was a baby. But he hadn't really known what he was doing, because, well, he'd been a baby. Not at all like her, who had been able to control her wandless magic since birth. And Dumbledork and those meanies in that stupid Order of the Big Flamey Bird Whose Name She Couldn't Remember had probably fed Harry Potter a bunch of lies about how _eeevil_ her father really was and how he'd tried to kill James and Lily Potter, not convince them of his innocence in whatever crimes he'd allegedly perpetrated.

Cat squared her shoulders. It was up to _her_, Cathy Katherine Greenleaf Malfoy Snape Riddle, the Veela, dragon, human, elf, and fairy princess to make Harry Potter see the Light! (4) And if he happened to fall in love with her along the way... Her heart belonged to Draco Malfoy! She would _never_ love Harry Potter!

But she had to make a dramatic entrance, or else he might dismiss her as a beautiful, but ordinary Hogwarts student and completely ignore her! Which would be, in case anybody missed the point, completely horrible. A travesty of nature!

She blew open the door with a blast of her wandless magic.

And completely forgot about Harry Potter.

"You must be my soul mate!" she cried, her eyes wide and wondering. Never before had she seen such beauty! He had long hair, just like the totally hawt guys in anime! It wasn't as long as Duo's or Kurama's, and his face wasn't pretty like a bishounen's, but he was hawt all the same!

Her soul mate stared at her like she'd gone nutters.

"Er...miss? You all right?" the funny-looking boy with really ugly, round glasses said.

Cat could feel her heart thudding in her chest most becomingly as she panted and heaved dramatically, though there was no real reason for it to be. Much to her surprise, and slight dismay, the _totally hawtt (!!111)_ boy with the brown eyes -- her favorite color! -- didn't bother to stare, or notice the very low neckline of her robe and the hints of her leopard-print bikini top peeking out.

She turned around and pulled out a compact, making sure there was no zit or pimple marring the lovely visage of her face that would make her unattractive to the opposite sex. Nothing. Her skin was as clean and fresh as it always was.

What could it be, then? _Everyone_ loved her, except for those stupid girls who were really jealous of her beauty!

Very well, then. If her soul mate wasn't interested -- meaning he was playing hard to get; how cute! -- then she'd have to switch tactics.

"Oh -- !" she cried, fluttering her lashes and placing one hand on a strategic spot on her chest. "Forgive me, kind sirs..."

Were they _laughing_ at her?

Cat burst into tears (she'd been planning to, but did it now just to guilt trip them all into stopping by her dorm room (5) to apologize) and ran from the compartment.

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "Nice girl," he said.

- - -

This was all very, very weird.

The impossibly beautiful girl with the -- Harry blushed at this -- almost nonexistent uniform had rushed in, swooned over Vincent -- who he supposed was rather good-looking, now that he thought about it -- then ran out after Ron and he had stifled snickers at the "kind sirs" part in tears.

Vincent, at least, seemed to be in a considerably better mood now, talking a bit more with Ron, and answering Hermione's questions about what life was like in America.

Harry studied Vincent carefully. Brown eyes, longish blonde hair, and a scornful kind of air that made him A bit like Snape, only without the greasy hair, hooked nose, sallow skin, skull-like eyes, and way of looking down on people. (6)

"We'd better start changing," Ron said. "Right." Nobody moved.

"Er...Hermione?"

"Oh! Sorry!"

Hermione left quickly, blushing and muttering something that sounded like, "I don't know _what's_ come over me."

Harry saw Vincent looking sharply at her, though the glance was so fleeting and quick it couldn't have been anything good. Under his breath -- Harry had to _really_ listen to hear this -- it seemed like he had said, "Damn Sues."

That couldn't be right. What did Vincent have against people named "Sue"?

- - -

1. The dreaded appearance of the "single teardrop." Gasp in horror at the cliché.

2. Isn't every Sue's skin "pure white"? She wouldn't be a 'Sue if her skin wasn't. Unfortunately.

3. Sorry, Neko-chan. ::sweat drop:: That's not an insult, it's just...a very scary thing. Means "cat" in Japanese.

4. That...must have been one hell of a wedding night. Ew.

5. Never mind the fact that boys can't go in the girls' dorm, but in many Suethors' fics, sneak in there at midnight and have sex with the 'Sue.

6. This is not a Snape-bashing fic. I have too much respect for his character to make him hot and beautiful so everyone can instantly fall in love with him.

- - -

Hermione will be 'Sued later on, sadly. Once this...Cat person has been gotten rid of, that is. But...she will be rescued and restored back in the lands of canon and in-characterness.

Review?

- - -


	2. The Resistance and The Sorting

**Title**: Harry Potter and the Invasion of the 'Sues  
**Author**: Ouvalyrin  
**Warnings**: Over usage of the word "fuck" because it's some girl called "Ravyn Drkfyre" using it, and we all know what she is, some violence in later chapters, OCs and Mary Sues.  
**Word Count**: 2,603  
**Disclaimer**: Since I forgot to write this one for the first chapter, this disclaimer applies to all chapters before, after, and now. So I don't have to bore you with what you already know, other than that Mary Sues are bad. The fic's mine, the characters—aside from the Sporker(s) and Sues—aren't, and Hogwarts isn't something I'd come up with. It sounds like Pigzits.  
**A/N**: I also forgot to mention this: All misspellings ("hawt/t," "kewl," etc.) are on purpose. I'm a preteen, not an idiot. Mild, very mild, Sailor Moon bashing, but only because they leave themselves wide open for it and yeah.  
And my Japanese is fairly horrible.

Chapter Two  
_The Resistance  
_or...  
_The Sorting_

Cat had slowed to a walk three doors down and found a different, empty compartment that had presented itself cheerfully, despite the fact that earlier, all compartments had been conveniently filled.

Ah yes...the Mary Sue powers of bending and shaping reality to their will (for example: "Voldermont") have just been displayed.

She seated herself in there carefully, stroking Neko-chan absentmindedly as she schemed on how to get her "soul mate." (Though other hot males would be just as good.)

There was a flash of lightening, striking the floor at her feet. Cat screamed dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes while her other hand began to glow as she formed a blast of magic that would turn her opponent into a puppy, because, y'know, hurting people was bad.

"Put that away," someone ordered sharply. "You weren't singed by the lightening bolt, and we could have killed you if we wanted."

Cat gulped, and her hand went to the magical pendant that hung about her neck, somehow hidden up until this point. You see, that was a part of its power; it hid itself from all eyes until it was needed. It was large, gaudy, and tacky, and looked quite a bit like a twelve-year old's misguided version of a kewl Gawth accessory: Black against the white of her skin, with spikes protruding from the diamond center and somehow managing to avoid gouging her skin, and a black dragon coiled about it all with jewel red eyes not unlike Cat's own.

It had been gifted to her by her dying mother (who, besides giving Cat some rather odd advice, had been rather rich as well). Cat knew not of the pendant's powers, only that, in cases of dire need, it would spin brilliantly -- still not harming her -- and reveal itself to all eyes, defeat whatever great evil had targeted her for the moment, and, to all extents and purposes, die.

Cat was sure that this would be her last moment on earth. What else could a lightening bolt mean? No doubt some evil lord -- no, _god_ -- come to try and take her as his bride and kill her if she refused.

Instead, there was a woman.

And, in the next instant, Cat found herself in a courtroom.

- - -

Morgana looked at the newest one critically. She doubted this "Cat" would be of much help, but every pair of hands was useful.

She eyed the pendant around Cat's neck a little greedily; it wasn't often one found artifacts of magic that commonly displayed, outside of her Resistance.

"You," she said regally, looking down at Cat, "are a very special girl."

Cat gasped in shock. Idiot, Morgana thought, annoyed.

"I knew it!" Cat cried. "I've known it since birth -- am I a princess from the land of Sparklypoo and --"

"No. You..." pause for dramatic affect, "are one of us."

- - -

Cat looked around wide-eyed, taking in the large array of girls before her.

"Liek, hi!" a girl with blue pigtails said. "I'm, liek, Krystil Byll and it's liek, so nice to, liek meet u, unless ur liek, after _my_ men, who're liek, my best friend Draco and liek, Orli."

"Konnichiwa, Cat-chan," another girl with pink hair and cat ears poking out. "Atashi wa Sakura desu."

"Er...what?" Cat asked, befuddled, before her instant translator kicked in. "Oh! Hi!"

"Live sux. U sux. Get the fucking hell out of my fucking sight before I fucking hex your fucking fat ass into fucking oblivion." The dark-skinned girl with blue hair examined her nails critically, headphones still on. Cat took offence at the last comment; her ass was _not_ fat, thank you very much! "Aw, fuck it, I have to fucking redo my fucking nails bcuz I've got a fucking chip. Then I'll have to fucking cut myself and be all fucking angsty and shit bcuz that's cool, yo. Live sux. U sux. Get the..." and so on.

"Ignore Ravyn," the fairy princess with giant, rainbow wings said, curtsying and bowing. Cat liked her on sight. Fairy Princess tossed her hair over her shoulder— another similarity! Imagine that— and sneered at the Ravyn. Cat felt a sliver of admiration for the Fairy Princess, but squashed it firmly. _She_ was the beautiful, sorrowful, tragic, and etc. girl, not these...these...wenches!

"I'm afraid that some of us," and Fairy Princess cast a pointed look at Ravyn, "are less equal than others." Before Cat had time to figure out that sentence, Fairy Princess was charging on. "I am Mayfly Maypole May, the Pretty Pink Soldier of Love. I moonlight as a savior of the world, get straight A-pluses without trying because I'm smarter than Hermione Granger whose brains are nothing but tiny little glass marbles in comparison to mine, balance an overly active social life, and have _oodles_ of money that I have to hide from my relatives because they're _so_ abusive and don't give me an _allowance_ and make me clean my room once a week. They're worse than Harry Potter's Muggle relatives, who I know about because I am the pretty pink soldier of love. Please, do call me Mayflower." Her hair flashed to a different color, this time a delicate shade of pink.

Cat felt herself being overcome by a wash of hero worship, but shoved it aside for smiling superiorly and purring, "Kathy Catherine Greenleaf Malfoy Snape Riddle." Hah! Like some pretty pink soldier of love could beat _that_!

Mayfly— oh, excuse me, _Mayflower_— sneered. "You're related to that...that..."

"Don't you fucking dare to fucking insult _my_ fucking man!" Guess who. Krystil echoed Ravyn's sentiments, interposing "like" every other word. (Never mind that being related to the Malfoys, Snapes, and the Riddles were all equally repugnant to most.)

"_Enough_, girls," Morgana barked. "We are here to see what can be done about our latest enemy, not to squabble like lesser beings." She turned to Cat. "You will meet the rest of us eventually. Take your seat."

Cat paused for a moment, deliberating on protesting, but one look from Morgana and she found herself demurely sitting down. Even Ravyn looked alert.

"This is the Sporker." Morgana gestured behind her, and an image of the Enemy appeared. All girls gasped, some in horror, most in something else. "An attractive young male, roughly fifteen years old, and the wielder of Reality. This means that no matter what you do, girls, you won't be able to make him love you the 'traditional' way— fall in love with him, and I'll feed you all to the giant squid myself." Morgana looked around her meaningfully. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," the girls chorused. Cat gulped; the Enemy _couldn't_ be her true love! Impossible!

"Do whatever you can to kill him, but _do not_ implicate yourselves in any way. The Sporker's Academy," and everyone sneered at the name, "will send reinforcements the moment he asks, and from what I understand he's a proud young man. If, for one moment, he believes that he'll need those reinforcements, I will hunt you down and suck out your soul. Understood?"

She would suck out their souls? Cat's hand went to her neck, closing about the pendant.

"You— Catherine, is it?"

"Kathy Ca..." Cat's correction died in her throat. "Everyone calls me Cat."

"A _Cat_," Morgana muttered to herself. "Better than nothing, I suppose." Then, louder, "Come here. The rest of you are dismissed. Resume your positions."

One by one, the girls faded away, until only Cat and Morgana were left.

"You're going up first," Morgana said. "Your task is to seduce Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Get rid of the Sporker." Cat opened her mouth, then shut it again, remembering Morgana's threat. "Turn the girl to our side."

"Do you mean Hermione Granger?"

"Yes, her, the girl. She's already begun to feel our influence, and you need to speed up the process."

"How?"

Morgana looked at her coolly. "What do you mean, _how_? I give you your orders, it's your job to figure out how to do them. Go." She snapped her fingers and Cat found herself back in the train compartment, Neko-chan staring at her peculiarly.

- - -

Morgana shook her head. "A _Cat_," she said. "I'm trusting a _Cat_ with this."

- - -

"The...Sorting," Vincent said, tearing into a Chocolate Frog bought from the cart a few minutes ago.

"Really?" Hermione asked. Ron twitched, and tore his eyes away from Hermione's nose ring. "What was it like?"

Vincent deliberated for a moment. "Painful," he said, and Harry was reminded abruptly of his own thoughts in first year about being Sorted: Wrestling trolls, pulling white rabbits out of the hat...

"Ours isn't," he said quickly. "We just put the Sorting Hat on our head and it tells us which house we belong to."

"Houses."

"Yeah— we're all in Gryffindor, s' the best of the lot. Ravenclaw's okay, I guess, though it's better than Hufflepuff or Slytherin. And being a Hufflepuff's better than being Slytherin. Slytherin's where all the really evil people go." Ron looked around furtively, before saying in a lower voice, "You-Know-Who was in Slytherin." Instead of replying, Vincent watched Harry through narrowed eyes, and noted his flinch.

"We _know_, Ron," Hermione said. "And his name is _Voldermont._ Fear of the name increases fear of the object itself."

Harry gaped. "Erm...Hermione. His name's Voldemort." This time it was Ron who flinched.

"Don't say that name—"

"Are you trying to tell me what his name is?" Hermione demanded, somewhat more shrilly than usual. "_Who's_ the smart one in this compartment, huh?"

Vincent looked back and forth, a curious blankness in his eyes. "We're almost there," he interrupted softly. Then he got up and left.

Ron stared after him. "What was _that_ all about?" he asked.

"How on earth would I know?" Hermione snapped.

- - -

Hagrid's familiar bellow of "Firs' years this way!" greeted them, along with Professor McGonagall appearing before them and ordering imperiously, "Transfer students with me."

There was a surprising number of transfer students, Ron noted, most of them female. He saw Vincent push his way through them to the side of a blue-haired— _blue_? Ron thought— boy and whisper something in his ear. The blue-haired boy nodded and...vanished? _But you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds!_ Ron thought, remembering one of Hermione's lectures.

- - -

Vincent ignored everybody, noting that most of the girls were giving him odd looks and edging away from him slightly. 'Sues, he thought; they must have already been notified.

The Sorting Hat- _that's_ the Sorting Hat? Vincent had thought disbelievingly; he was familiar with this world and knew what the Sorting Hat looked like, but one always expected something a bit grander than reality allowed- finished its song and sat back expectantly.

Professor McGonagall stepped up and unrolled a long parchment.

"Adams, Vincent!"

Vincent stepped up, refusing to show even the slightest bit of nervousness. For one thing, he was a good deal older than the first-years; for another, he had to cultivate the right kind of impression with the students. Vincent took off his glasses and put them in the pocket of his robes.

Professor McGonagall plopped the Sorting Hat on his head, which promptly slid forward, covering his eyes.

_ "You are not of this world."_

What are you, thick? Vincent half-sneered back. Of course I'm not— my coming was foretold. Dumbledore should have received notification two weeks ago. Or did he not bother to inform a lowly talking hat of this?

If possible, the Sorting Hat would have bristled.

_ "My job is to Sort the students, a job holding more significance and history than you would believe."_

And my job is to make sure Harry Potter will actually be alive and in character to defeat the Dark Lord.

Now, more than anything, the Sorting Hat seemed amused. _"You're a clever one all right. Manipulative too, and you know better than to display all your cards at once. Throw them out one by one, right?"_

Put me in Gryffindor and get on with it; I don't have all day!

_ "Impatient— impetuous, some might say. Headstrong, certainly. And I shouldn't wonder if you're ruthless as well."_

Don't you _dare_ put me in Slytherin, I don't have the time to coddle them every moment of the day and further their silly beliefs. 2

_ "Of course not— if Voldemort takes over, I hardly believe that he wouldn't rip up an old hat like me. And if those demons win, they'll replace me."_

Glad to see you can think.

The Hat opened its brim and roared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

- - -

Harry joined in on the clapping, cheering with the rest of his house. Vincent sauntered over slowly, taking out his glasses and sliding them back on his face.

"Knew you'd make it in," Ron said cheerily, sliding over to make some room for him. Vincent took the spot silently.

"Summers, Lindsey!" A stunningly blond girl sauntered up. Dean let out a whistle and shook his head.

"Transfer student," Vincent grunted.

"Dude, do you not have eyes?"

"Cross dresser," Vincent said, and gestured to the girl.

"No way," another Gryffindor said.

"No chest, hips, or shoulders. Cut the hair and he'll look like a pretty boy."

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat roared after a ten second discussion. The Gryffindors clapped, if not some a bit unenthusiastically; mainly the ones who had heard Vincent's comments.

"What's with the transfer students?" Ron asked. "They're all girls, too- the girls' dormitories'll be overflowing with people."

Vincent shrugged. "They'll start disappearing along the school year," he said.

"Really." Ron looked skeptical; he wasn't the only one.

"Why?" Hermione asked, a spark of something much more familiar reappearing in her voice. Harry and Ron grinned at each other, and the former wondered why he felt so relieved at that.

Vincent, instead of answering, got up and left.

It wasn't until he had reached the Fat Lady that he realized he had forgotten to ask for the password.

_ Of all the stupidest mistakes...!_

He sighed, some of the tension slumping out of his shoulders. It was good to remind himself that he was, after all, only human -- stop him from becoming (_reverting,_ he thought darkly) to what he hunted.

The sound of footsteps. Vincent turned to see Hermione Granger hurrying towards him. He winced, spying the dark blue eye shadow that _hadn't_ been there before the Sorting and dinner. _Wonderful -- she's my first target, then. Can't kill her, she's a canonical character. But how, then?_

"The password's _lionheart_," Hermione said. 2

"Ah," Vincent murmured. "Thank you."

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open and Vincent climbed through.

* * *

1. I am a devout Slytherin and Draco Malfoy fan. From before the movies. And Tom Felton's not that good of an actor in the Harry Potter movies. And I like them selfish brats in dire need of a good wake up call. And I can actually see where they're coming from on that entire Mudblood/half-breed/Muggleborn - pureblood thing.

2. Shut up. I'm unoriginal.

* * *

As always, reviews are my food. And I'm starving. XD Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and the like are always welcome, as are flames. (Make it amusing and stereotypical enough and I'll put it up on some lj-comms.)


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